


soon the dark in me is all that will remain

by devereauxed



Category: Jane the Virgin (TV)
Genre: Angst, Anna don't read this, Death, F/F, Grief, Mickie don't read this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-01-09
Packaged: 2019-03-01 08:42:03
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,072
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13291242
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/devereauxed/pseuds/devereauxed
Summary: It was the end.For real this time.





	soon the dark in me is all that will remain

**Author's Note:**

> PLEASE NOTE THE WARNINGS. PLEASE. 
> 
> Okay so I feel a little strange about posting this one. This last year I've had to start learning how to cope with grief. Lucky (?) for me it hasn't been sudden so it's been a process, but it's still not easy. This fic is me processing. It's entirely about loss and grief and death, and I'm pretty sure at some points I may have gone too far, but this is how I'm feeling. It's where I'm at personally, and these are things I'm feeling (though thankfully not about my partner). 
> 
> I don't want to hurt or upset anyone that's also dealing with or has dealt with this stuff so I wanted to put all of this out there very clearly before hand.

She almost turned around. Again.   
  
It was only the shame at her own cowardice that stopped her. She'd put this off for long enough. Too long.   
  
She owed her this, at the very least.   
  
Scanning the tree line for anything out of the ordinary, anything that could make this even more painful, she stepped onto the grass and began to make her way past the rows and rows of headstones.   
  
She knew exactly where she was going, but she took the long way, meandering slowly along the path, trying not to read the names and dates on the stones she passed. The sky darkened steadily above her, the sunset streaking the sky in shades of orange, red, and pink in a way that could only remind her of one thing – fireworks.  
  
Pain shot through her chest. It still took her by surprise that grief wasn't just emotional; the physicality of it, the visceral quality with which it affected her body left her unsteady. She'd never though she was capable of feeling this much. But there were a lot of things she didn't think she could, or would, do before her.   
  
Even though she'd known her destination, had dreaded it with every step, she wasn’t expecting to find herself standing before her.

But, then again – this wasn't where she was supposed to be. It was never not going to shock her to find her here.   
  
She stood back, unable to make herself to bridge that final space. It felt cavernous, echoing with voices of the past and things left unsaid. 

The leaves of the trees rustled then stopped as the breeze left them in its wake and she realized how quiet it really was there. 

How was it so quiet? She wasn't quiet. This was all wrong.   
  
Panic welled up inside of her. How could the world be this wrong? How could there ever be a world where she no longer existed? Her world had been rocked when they'd met, but it was nothing like the way her absence rocked it now.   
  
With a deep breath, she forced herself forward but immediately jumped back as if she'd been burned. She had been about to step on her. The fact that that was even possible made her physically ill.   
  
Carefully, she took gentle steps, skirting around the edge of her. Of her grave.   
  
Swallowing thickly, she knelt beside the headstone.   
  
"Hi," she whispered.   
  
It hit her hard. Whispers had always been saved for first thing in the morning.   
  
A fresh wave of revulsion rolled over her when she realized there would be no whispered response. There never would be again. No soft sleepy smiles, no gentle touches. She was always the softest when she'd just woken up.   
  
She wanted to run. Run from the headstone, the country...from her. Maybe if she ran far enough - fast enough - she could outrun all of this. The pain she never thought she could feel, the feelings she denied until it was too late, the guilt she refused to accept.   
  
She'd made her a casualty.   
  
After everything, she was just another body left in her wake.   
  
She was supposed to be different. She should have been different. She'd never let her be different, and look what happened.   
  
She reached out, softly running her hands along the marker, the coldness of the smooth stone stopping any thought of the softness of warm skin short. She let her hands trail across the letters, some unconscious part of her keeping her from touching her name.   
  
Daughter. Sister.   
  
That's not what she was. She was so much more.   
  
They hadn’t treated her as either of those things. They didn't deserve her.  
  
But neither did she.    
  
Anger surged through her at the audacity of death. She was fierce; she didn't fear things, she was something to fear. 

There was a way around this. She could find an answer. She got her way, this was no different. This _had to be_ no different. It couldn’t be final, it couldn’t be irrevocable, it couldn’t be out of her control. She would command it, just like everything else in her life, she could…she could….she…  
  
As had so often had been happening, like a rug being yanked from beneath her, like the earth opening up and letting her fall into nothingness, her anger evaporated, replaced by emptiness and a constant, throbbing _ache_.   
  
She was gone.   
  
Words flitted through her mind. Words she'd said to protect herself, protect her plan, protect the things that hadn’t mattered. What had mattered had been standing in front of her with that _look_ , that desperate look, that look that gave away everything, gave _up_ everything, pleading for love, pleading for care, pleading for the world to give her one good thing, one good person, someone to hold onto that would hold her back.   
  
_It’s over. For real this time._  
  
And it wasn't. Not then. But it was now.   
  
She'd run out of chances. She'd run out of time.   
  
She was angry at her for being _her_ , for that smile and that heart and that touch. She was angry that she loved her, that she had existed at all.  
  
Finally, she let her fingers ever so carefully trace her name, mapping each line, each cut into the stone, the way she had mapped _her_.   
  
It was real.   
  
It was a nightmare.   
  
Closing her eyes against the tears that she hated, tears that made her weak, tears that did nothing for her, she breathed deeply.   
  
This had to be it. No more.   
  
It had gone on long enough. It had done enough damage. It had ruined everything.   
  
She opened her eyes. One last look.   
  
Her hands found the grass before her, her fingers tightening, digging into be soil, clutching at it as if she were trying to climb into it, trying to leave something behind.  
  
"Bye, Lu." 

And that was it.  
  
She felt something disengage inside of her, and her shoulders straightened, her chin lifted. She stood, flexing her fingers into fists before smoothing her dress, brushing the dirt from where it lingered. 

Enough. 

She left without a glance backward.  

Rose Solano was done. She was gone. Buried. And in her place emerged something even more monstrous, more callous, uncaring, vile. She stepped free from the pain, the feelings, the weakness. She left it there, in that place. Nothing held her back anymore.  
  
She was fire. She was rage. She was free. 


End file.
